


To Love a Firefighter

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Firefighters, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt loves a firefighter and, because of it, he promises himself that he will never love another one.</p><p>Then, of course, there’s Blaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Love a Firefighter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Klaine AU Friday.

Being the son of a firefighter has never been easy.

It wasn’t easy when Kurt was four and he asked, every night, when daddy would be home.

It wasn’t easy when Kurt was eight and his mother died, and suddenly childhood turned into babysitters and friendly neighbors and afternoons spent in the firehouse.

It wasn’t easy when Kurt was eleven and realized that he didn’t like girls the way other boys did, but the idea of telling his father, a firefighter, was more terrifying than the struggle of dealing with it on his own.

It wasn’t easy when Kurt was fourteen and he came home to an empty house almost every day, carrying every word that had been flung at him on his shoulders and wishing that there was someone, anyone, to talk to.

It was never easy, but it was Kurt’s life. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his dad, or that his dad didn’t love him; they loved each other and they were family, and even if they weren’t always physically there, they were there for each other.

When Kurt finally came out to his dad in his sophomore year and their relationship had been rocked, tested, until it was made stronger still. When the apartment complex downtown had caught fire and Kurt had sat at home, ringing his hands, waiting and waiting to hear something, anything, until the front door unlocked and his dad trudged in, exhausted, opening his arms and hugging his distraught son.

It wasn’t always the two of them, and Kurt saw Carole Hudson become a firefighter’s wife and Finn becoming what Kurt had been as a child; the son who thought  _my dad is a superhero_  before learning that even superheros can’t live through everything. Kurt watched as Carole took to wringing her hands as often as he did, but how she never stopped smiling. How fires became the time when they would turn on the TV and hold hands and sometimes bake together just to keep themselves from going crazy. It was new, and different, and Kurt never wanted anyone else to hurt for his dad the way he did. But if it was going to be anyone, he’s glad it was Carole Hudson.

Life is hard, people say, and loving a firefighter only makes life that much harder. But it was a life that Kurt grew up in, grew into, and it was a part of him the way singing and fashion were. It would be a lie, of course, to say that Kurt never wished things were different. Sometimes he wondered what life would be like if his father wasn’t a firefighter, if Kurt didn’t go to bed every night wondering if he’d wake up an orphan. But then Kurt would shake his head, tell himself to stop thinking of what ifs, and remind himself that his father was helping people, saving them, and Kurt could never hold that against him.

But it is one thing to accept something for what it is and another to agree with it entirely.

Kurt loves a firefighter and, because of it, he promises himself that he will never love another one.

Then, of course, there’s Blaine.

*

Thanksgiving is a hectic time for firefighters. People do stupid things, become forgetful, and there are too many stories about burnt turkeys. But it’s not anything Kurt isn’t used to. He’s spent every single Thanksgiving at the fire house, surrounded by dozens of families and far too much food, and to do anything else would feel wrong.

Of course, preparing for a Thanksgiving dinner that is, on average, feeding fifty people is easier when he’s not fresh off a plane from New York.

Especially when Carole is trying to pacify him.

"Carole. We are in charge of dessert this year, and firefighters eat about four times as much dessert as the normal person. Now you can keep trying to tell me to calm down, or you can finish rolling out those pie crusts for me. Finn! Stop eating my apple slices!"

And Carole gives up, as she normally does, and goes to work, slapping Finn’s hands away from the bowl of apple pieces.

"I hate it when Kurt bakes. He gets mean," Finn grumbles around a mouthful of apple, and Carole pats him on the shoulder.

"Just be thankful he isn’t doing the turkeys this year." Finn can only agree with her.

Not every firefighter at the station works Thanksgiving, but Burt Hummel always does. It has nothing to do with him particularly liking spending Thanksgiving at the firehouse (he does, but that’s beside the point), but has more to do with the fact that not everyone has that option. Many of his colleagues have to go out of state, have large family dinners hours away; not everyone is as lucky as he is. So he graciously takes a double shift and helps set up the long tables that will eventually hold his family along with many others.

Kurt arrives at the station promptly at 10am on Thursday morning, Carole and Finn toting armfuls of pies behind him.

"You did dessert this year, kid?" Calls a man from where he’s cleaning one of the trucks.

"You bet, Zach. I made some lemon meringue, just for you."

The reason that Kurt has never minded Thanksgiving at the firehouse is because the men and women at the firehouse are family just as much as Carole and Finn are. They watched Kurt grow up, fell in love with Kurt’s tendency to bring in baked goods whenever Burt worked, and they know him and tease him like any family would. It’s certainly made returning to Ohio easier.

"Someone better warn the kitchen, little Hummel is here!"

"I heard that, Kathy!"

A woman’s voice floats down from the upper level and he shakes his head fondly.

"Dude, it’s true. Remember last year? I think David is  _still_  recovering."

"Ha ha, very funny." They make their way into the rec room, where Burt and a few of the other men are setting up the tables.

"Burt, you’ve got some pie-wielding visitors."

Burt turns, his face splitting into a grin and, if Kurt wasn’t carrying so many pies, he’d probably hug his dad. It’s been months since they’ve seen each other last, what with Kurt away at school, and Kurt  _misses_  him horribly even from ten feet away.

"Why don’t you take those into the galley?" Burt advises and Kurt rolls his eyes.

“ _Kitchen_ , dad. You’re not a pirate." Kurt looks at Carole and Finn. “You can just set the pies down on that table over there. I’ll come back for them."

"That’s what it’s called!" Burt calls to Kurt’s back, but he just dismissively waves his hand before pushing through the swinging door.

"Alright, the dictator has arrived. If you’re in here, you are now my property until mealtime, so." Kurt turns into the kitchen and then stops. There aren’t many times that Kurt is surprised at the firehouse, not anymore, and so it’s all the more shocking when it happens. There are almost always rookies, at any time of the year, someone he’ll have heard about in pieces of conversation and stories but doesn’t have a face for some time.

This face is a new one and it doesn’t have a name.

Kurt almost drops a pie.

"Woah, woah, careful." The stranger rushes forward and saves the pie from it’s ruin and Kurt snaps back to himself.

"Thank you," he says immediately. “I spent hours making these last night. I suppose that’s what I get, trying to carry six pies at once."

"You seemed to be doing alright at first. I didn’t mean to scare you, by the way. I know my face is kind of scary." He laughs, the kind of laugh that requires every muscle of the face, and it’s wonderful.

"Terribly," Kurt snips back, unloading the pies onto the counter. “You must be the rookie I’ve heard about." Vague things, not nearly as much as Kurt would have heard if he still lived at home.

"Good things, I hope." The sixth pie joins the line. “And you must be little Hummel."

"Kurt," he corrects immediately, because he isn’t  _five_  anymore and he really wishes people at the station would stop calling him that.

"My name’s Blaine."

They shake hands and both of them are smiling and that’s wonderful, too.

*

True to his word, however, Kurt commanders the kitchen, and Blaine with it.

"It’s always the rookies," he explains as they play Tetris with the food in the fridge to make room for all the pies. “The others know by now what I’m like, so they always stick you guys with me when I’m here. I apologize, in advance, if I make you cry."

Blaine laughs.

"Yeah, I’ve heard the stories."

Kurt flushes, self consciously.

"But, you know, if I had been in your shoes, and David had left the head inside the turkey, I probably would have started yelling, too."

Kurt can’t help himself; he laughs, shaking his head, and he wonders what other sorts of stories Blaine’s been told.

"Come on," he says, shutting the fridge with a sense of accomplishment. “The wives will be here soon with the rest of the food, and that’s when the fun really starts."

"You know what, there’s probably a cat in a tree somewhere."

"Nice try, Anderson."

*

Kurt learns that evening that Blaine Anderson is basically fresh out of academy and just shy of Kurt’s age. He’s the rookie that takes all the rookie jobs with a smile, even when he’s elbow deep in days worth of dishes, and he has, indeed, rescued quite a few cats from trees. His family doesn’t come to the dinner, and Kurt doesn’t ask why, no matter how badly he wants to. His dad seems to have a particular liking of Blaine, which seems to be a general consensus among everyone else.

It’s hard not to like Blaine, Kurt thinks. He’s friendly and likable and his smiles are contagious. He is interested in everything anyone has to say, his eyes always wide with interest. He’s not the sort of person Kurt ever imagined he’d see in one of those familiar shirts, the ones his dad had been wearing for as long as Kurt could remember, the same one Kurt owns and wears when he’s feeling particularly homesick.

But there he is.

There is one alarm during dinner and Kurt’s heart stops until the sound registers and he lets out a breath of relief. Half of the men jump up, his dad included, and they head out (but not before Burt ruffles Kurt’s hair and is rewarded with a whiny, “dad!"). The engine pulls out and the families sit for a moment, in silence, until the siren fades into the late afternoon.

"You think they’d notice if we ate one of the pies?" Finn asks, and laughter erupts out of the silence. Kurt shakes his head.

"If dad finds out you ate a pie while he’s out on a job, he’s going to make you wash a truck by yourself.  _Again_." The group laughs again and as Kurt casts his eyes around, he sees Blaine looking at him peculiarly. Kurt tilts his head, trying to catch Blaine’s eye, but when Blaine notices he’s been caught looking he blanches.

"Speaking of pies, though, I need to go and check on them. Assistant!" Blaine’s head snaps up and Kurt looks at him pointedly. He doesn’t  _seem_  reluctant, at least, as he gets up and follows Kurt into the kitchen, the door shutting out the sounds of chatter and laughter.

Kurt turns on him instantly.

"Don’t take it too hard," he says. “It really doesn’t mean anything when some of the guys go and some stay."

"What?" Blaine furrows his eyebrows and Kurt furrows his back.

"Isn’t that what’s bugging you?"

"Bugging me? No, nothing is… Bugging me."

"Then… What?" Kurt leans against the counter and Blaine sighs, fingers itching at the side of his neck.

"You all just… You take it well." Blaine gestures to the door with his head and it takes Kurt a moment of intense staring to realize what Blaine’s talking about.

"It’s not anything serious. It’s… It’s different, when it is."

"How do you do it?"

The question surprises Kurt and he immediately starts wringing his hands, a habit that will most likely stick with him for life whenever he imagines his dad out on a job.

"You just… You do. If you love someone enough, it’s worth it. It’s… Terrifying." Kurt laughs, humorlessly. “But it’s the life I’ve always known, I… I can’t imagine anything different. And so, I could either continue being scared every second, every day, or… Accept it, I suppose." Kurt shrugs, shakes his head. “Did that make any sense?" He looks up at Blaine, who’s continuing to stare at him strangely. “What?"

"What? Oh, nothing, just… Yeah, it made sense." Blaine leans his head back, stares at the ceiling. “So the secret is love?"

Kurt laughs and Blaine meet’s his eyes again.

"Yeah, I guess it is."


End file.
